Purpose of Living
by Luis P
Summary: This story follows the life of the orc Xyku and the forsaken Grey, on their quest to find a Purpose of Living, and before they notice, they will be changing the fate of the World of Warcraft. Please leave reviews : .


"_Xyku Krojmhar, grand warlock of the Horde, has to be eliminated, and his assassination, Grey Eerzig, will be your first assignment as a new recruit of the Deathstalkers."_

Grey recalled those words from the dreadlord Varimathras as he packed all sorts of tools and weapons of murder. His arsenal was simple: a poison − mind-numbing poison was the name that he was taught − brewed by himself. It was his favorite, since it attacked directly the brain and nerves, turning the fastest enemy into a slug and the greatest humanoid brain in that of a beast. Perfect for a fast, clean death. Other rogues, however, were more reluctant to use it: "It is unfair to kill someone in a condition like that!" many said. Yes, even those said to be cold-hearted assassins feared to use that poison. Grey, however, didn't care for fair fight, or even death and living. All he wanted was to perform his tasks in the most efficient ways.

He always carried lockpicking tools with him, but not this time; it was the riskiest mission he ever took part in − it was his first, after all, but he did have some dire situations during his academy days − the least equipment he brought with him, the best Besides that poison, he packed a barbed wire, with which he planned to deal the killing blow. Even a dagger was too big; it was no ordinary person he was facing, and the slightest disturbance would be sensed, ultimately leading to the undead's death.

However, he brought one. He didn't plan to use it to kill Xyku, as the orc warlock would undoubtedly notice such a big object the moment it approached his head. On the other hand, the Deathstalker had to be prepared should it come to direct combat, and so, he planned to leave it somewhere hidden in the tavern the assassination was to take place, and pick it should things turn wrong. It was a simple, yet beautiful dagger; undoubtedly bigger than an ordinary dagger, yet, smaller than a sword, its hilt was made of stone − granite − and the blade was of marble, not a material used to cut through someone's skin, and as such, the edges were surrounded by pure gold. He found it when the academy sent him on a mission to eliminate ghosts that haunted a farm Brill planned to use to replenish their food stocks...

… The farm he lived in when he was little, a human kid adopted by a high elven family. And the ghosts of said farm were no more no less than his parents and his bigger sister. Nevertheless, he carried his task without any sign of hesitation, fear, or regret. Later, when he was abandoning the burning house he once lived in − he was also assigned to burn it once the task was done, they told him it was to prevent the spirits from waking again, but he knew that wasn't true. What they truly wanted to test was how cold-hearted he could be − Grey found the dagger under a sac of horse food, and decided to take it.

Before departing to his mission, he diluted some mind-numbing powder into a glass of beer − a drink he disliked, but bought some for testing purposes − and gave it to his leper gnome slave − he wanted to make sure there were no mistakes in its brewing − the same way he planned to do with Xyku.

"_Now that he is taking a break from his research here in the Undercity, recent reports show that your target spends most of his time at The Darkbriar Lodge Tavern in Orgrimmar, not that he makes any effort to hide his identity. After all, he has a power that is both admired and feared by many of the Horde. The reason we want him dead is simple: we, the Forsaken, were to help him grow further into the dark arts. However, the fools responsible for him let him know too much, and such knowledge cannot be passed to anyone. He must die. By any means, however, young Eerzig, do not tell any of this to Lady Sylvanas. She would tell you that he is a powerful ally that we could be useful to us, but that's not what's truly in her head. What she is truly feeling is that the Horde are more of her allies than tools, and lately, she is trying to protect them, and with her reluctance to admit her empathy, she always says they are powerful allies. I respect my Lady, and would die for her, and that's why I'm doing this; it is the best for her and for the sake of us all, even though she wouldn't agree with it. Are we clear, Eerzig?_

"_Yes, master Varimathras"_

Grey waited for the zeppelin to Orgrimmar, staring deep into the horizon without any sign of emotions. After long minutes of silence, a blood elf woman tried to start a conversation with him, but he ignored her.

"_I won't lie to you, Eerzig; Xyku's power is way beyond yours. Why send a rookie into such a mission, you ask? Because if you died, no one would know that you are a Deathstalker, and your attempt would be seen as nothing more but a jealous undead; never as an attempt of murder from the Forsaken. I'll leave his assassination to your jurisdiction, but I can tell you that to engage him in direct combat wouldn't only be foolish, it would be suicide. You're facing someone who willingly used dark magic to eradicate the word mercy from his mind. Now go, young Deathstalker, I wish you well."_

_"As you desire, master Varimathras"._

Orgrimmar. It was where Grey learnt the art of lockpicking. He hated the place. It wasn't just the stench; the orcs were always getting drunk and picking fights with everyone. He once killed one of them, a swift stab in the belly that no one noticed. Pretending to be preoccupied with the orc and telling everyone he fainted, he dispatched the body. It wasn't that his move was so perfect that no one noticed; rather, no one cared.

He was now at the Darkbriar Lodge Tavern, where he found his green-skinned target sat alone, and several empty bottles of all kinds of drinks in the round table in front of him. Yet, unlike all the other orcs who were throwing insults at everything and everyone, even sacs of food they thought to be persons, this one − although undoubtedly drunk − was just calmly sat on his chair.

The time had come. Grey made sure no one was watching, and hid his dagger in sac of grain laid against a wall in a corner. Slowly, he sat by the bar, where a troll was filling four glasses with beer at the same time. There were other eight glasses of beer in the balcony, waiting for the waitress to take them to those who wanted to drink them. Grey wouldn't take any chances, this was the greatest mission he ever had, the greatest opportunity to prove his worth, and thus, he spent all the money he had in what would help him fulfill his mission. In this case, a great deal of reagents for mind-numbing poison. He poured it into every beer. Obviously, other persons would be poisoned, but it made no difference.

He got up and sat on a table behind Xyku, and waited patiently for the beer to be brought to him. It didn't take long, and the glass was already by the warlock's lips. He drank the whole beer in a second; everything was going well for Grey.

Yet, he didn't smile.

He got up, and walked towards Xyku in slow, yet determined steps, pulling the barbed wire from his pocket while he walked. He was now behind him, holding the wire with both hands, and the orc didn't move the slightest muscle. Everything went well; from then on it would be simple, he just had to garrote his target. Grey's moment of glory was about to happen. He would triumph and forever be known as the youngest Deathstalker to succeed in such a mission.

But he heard something from his left. The sound of someone kissing the air. Grey looked immediately, but saw nothing. Followed by that, coming from the same place, he heard a whip hitting the wooden ground. And then, just a few centimeters from him, a weak blue light appeared and revealed a previous invisible succubus.

A hoarse laughter was heard, it was Xyku.

− How do you like Sytrhalla, my loyal minion? − The warlock said in a mocking manner, and, still not looking at Grey, he raised a hand and turned it towards the undead. A black ball formed in front of it, immediately striking its target.

Grey was sent flying over the tavern and hit the wall with such power that it cracked. Everyone looked in silence, stunned by such display of power. Ignoring other people's reactions, the young undead, after couching blood, tried to crawl to his dagger while desperately grasping for air. When he was close to it, he got all the energy he had left together and used it to roll, picking the dagger during his rolling so fast and precisely that by the time he had finished his move he was already holding it in front of his face in a defensive stance.

Grey did not fear death. However, his hands were shaking for no apparent reason. He concluded that the mere presence of a killing-intended Xyku stroke fear deep into the hearts of everyone, as the rogue was not the only one trembling.

It took the warlock about twenty seconds to finally get up from his chair. He turned to Grey, and took a few, slow steps. At first, the assassin thought his target's slow movements had the intent of terrifying his enemy. But to his surprise and delight, he was wrong. After all, even the fastest enemy would be turned into a slug and the greatest humanoid brain in that of a beast after mind-numbing poison started taking effect. After a few steps, Xyku fell forward, only to be grabbed by his loyal succubus.

Grey smiled. Things didn't turn out exactly as he wanted, but his hope that had gone pretty low had now risen by a reasonable amount. He rushed forwards to proceed with the assassination, but Sythralla stood in front of him. He engaged her in direct combat, dodging her attacks and waiting for the right moment to strike back. While at it, he threw his dagger to his left hand, with the purpose of using the right to grab the demon's weapon, her whip.

The undead had the advantage for that fight. Back in the academy days, he spent much of his time in the library studying the creatures from all the worlds and planes. Demons were the ones who fascinated him the most. And as he knew, a succubus had the power to infuse her whip with dark energy, instantaneously incinerating anyone who dared to touch it. But that was his plan. When the time was right, he grabbed the succubus's whip with his right hand. It was immediately surrounded by dark energy, but the rogue had already let go of his grip. What he wanted was to catch the succubus off-guarded, and casting a spell like that wouldn't allow her to protect herself to in time.

Grey slit her throat. Blood poured everywhere in a disgusting sight that made everyone turn their faces away. He, however, couldn't lose time in such a thing.

Green fire − fel fire − stood in the place Xyku previously was. He had used a demonic circle to teleport away; even though in the slowed state due to the mind-numbing poison, his succubus's sacrifice bought him enough time. However, Deathstalker's scouts had identified said demonic circle long, long ago. It was on the roof of the tavern the undead was in. He quickly rushed outside and to the roof. In his way, he crashed with a troll mother, causing her baby that was in her arms to fall into the ground. But it didn't have any effect in the young Deathstalker, who kept running ignoring the cries of the baby and the insults of the troll.

Xyku could be seen in the roof making a great effort to take just one step.

− It is over, warlock − Grey said, showing no emotions in his words, although he was proud of himself.

Reluctant to accept defeat, the warlock attempted to summon flames from his left hand, but a small knife thrown by the rogue cut through the flesh of his hand immediately. He was making a great effort to stand, and after such a blow, he lost his balance and stumbled back. Desperately, he tried to crawl away, always fixing his sight on his enemy, but ultimately reached the end of the roof in which he stood. He didn't show any fear, however, making Grey wonder if he had anything up to his sleeve. But there was nothing the warlock could do, and the reason for the absence of fear was that he didn't care much for his life.

"Pretty much like myself" − the undead thought.

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The undead's thoughts were right, indeed. Xyku didn't care for his life. It wasn't that he had no purpose in it; he advanced through the dark arts at an unbelievable speed. If he kept going, he would undoubtedly become one of the most feared warlocks of all time. The thing is, he didn't want that future. Ever since he renounced the ways of a shaman to learn the path of a warlock he had felt regret, but ever since he tried to fight the temptation of such power, he couldn't resist the lure. While others saw him as a great, terrifying warlock, he saw himself as a weakling, unable to resist the dark lure and gradually dive deeper and deeper into the whirlpool of despair. He couldn't go back now, and putting an end to everything wasn't a bad solution. He was willing to die.

**"Maybe there's still hope for you"** − a hoarse, deep voice said. That voice, sounded like flames raging.

Lost in his thoughts and of how losing his life wasn't so bad, Xyku didn't even notice that he was no longer standing in a roof. Rather, he was in a mountain, but more fascinating than the scenario was what, actually, − who − stood before him: the five elemental spirits.

The very same elemental spirits that he met long, long ago, before he became a shaman. Fire, Earth, Air, Water, and Nature. He thought he'd never see them again. Were they there to judge him? To mock him in the very end? "So be it, I deserve to be punished" he said, but then thought about the Fire spirit words. "Hope… for me?"

**"This kid, Grey Eerzig, shall be your new purpose in life" **− a more vivid voice said, the spirit of Nature − **"Help him, and you might end being helped".**

And in an instant, they were gone. Grey stood in front of him trapped in a cyclone. Xyku rushed to help, trusting both his arms forward and preparing to cast a spell. But in front of his eyes, before he pronounced any word, the cyclone slowed and slowly vanished, and a gush of wind flew toward the orc's hands, vanishing soon afterwards. Such feeling of control over the nature…

…Xyku's shamanistic powers had returned.


End file.
